


love remember me (sweetly and tenderly)

by betteronpaper



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, I AM SORRY, Introspection, Letter fic, Sorry Not Sorry, Trust, Two-Shot, and not(?) that angsty..? idk, bitter-sweet angst, but the feels needed to be released, just a lot of feels, little tugs of angst, need to be acknowledged, second part clarke processing, that kind of just...pile...but sweetly??, this was to process feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:22:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betteronpaper/pseuds/betteronpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>some loves live beyond the grave</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. tell me your secrets, ask me your questions (oh let’s go back to the start)

_you came thoughtfully, Loved me faithfully, You taught me honour, You did it for me - my love, sia_

There was a quietness that she hadn’t expected; a peaceful tranquillity that washed over her, calming and warm. It reminded her of falling asleep. Lexa had never been afraid of dying, and now that she was – slowly, painfully and survival rate low – well, the prospect wasn’t unwelcome. She was so dreadfully tired, after all. It would be so easy, if she let herself.

“Heda.”

If only she was alone, that would be more fitting, more deserving. This she did not voice, nor her thoughts of death, of burden lifted through it, of her people and her duty. She cannot die if she could help it, by the simple fact her life belonged to her people.

“I’m still alive, Lincoln,” she replied, murmured, though she did not look at him; her eyes were closed.

“Help will come soon. Clarke will know something went wrong.”

Yes, Lexa thought. Clarke would know, and a party will be sent, but her death will not wait for their arrival and rescue. Her spirit will leave her soon, Lexa knew this, and she would let it happen. The Ice Nation has been defeated, peace has been achieved. Her people are safe, and Clarke would take care of them, she knew that too. Her only regret, if she were to be selfish in allowing such things, was not having the chance to tell Clarke the truth. Not having tried harder, though Clarke made any attempts difficult – refusing to delve deep into any conversations of the Mountain, to avoid encounters with her alone, being distant but civil if only for the sake of peace. Lexa had wanted to give Clarke space, wanted to be patient. Time was no longer on her side, it seemed. She could tell Lincoln, at least. He would have known sooner, should have known sooner.

“They had guns on them,” she told him, turned her head to him with opened, tired eyes.

He looked puzzled, appeared confused but didn’t voice as such, didn’t question. She always liked that about him: his patience. It was something to adhere to.

“The Mountain Men; they had guns on my people. To refuse their offer meant the death of the same people we intended to save. And the missiles, they had threatened use of them as well. Tell me, Lincoln, was my word to the Sky People worth more than those lives? Could I have risked it?”

Quiet and thoughtful, Lincoln did not reply, which needn’t had mattered. Lexa did not require an answer, had only voiced it to provoke understanding, to provoke realization that nothing was as black and white as it seemed, that morality was a spectrum of greys.

“Does Clarke know this?” he eventually asked, spoke after some time.

“No.”

He didn’t understand this, why Clarke wouldn’t know, why Lexa had not told her.

“You love her,” he tried, confused.

“Yes.”

“Yet you said nothing.”

“I had planned to,” Lexa admitted, her eyes closed again. “I had hoped…”

“Lexa.”

A hand was on her shoulder, strong and gentle, and she breathed more deeply. She was so very tired.

“I had hoped she would forgive without this knowledge. Had there been no guns… it is likely I would have made the same decision, Lincoln. The well-being of my people…”

She imagined wheat fields;  being surrounded by the yellow hairs of the earth, hiding her away from duty, from title, with a lake not too far and a house; a simple house; imagined Clarke, there with her, smiling soft and warm as her fingers comb through sunlight hair, gold like the field they were in; imagined huffing short breaths of laughter, eyes wide and memorizing; imagined her head resting on Clarke’s chest, the beating of the artist’s heart thrumming beneath her ears a steady _bar_ - _bum, bar-bum, bar-bum,_ lulling her into a lazy state, a sleepy state; imagined sweet, poetic wooing words; pink, flushed cheeks and soft caresses; imagined Clarke’s eyes that were like the sky and the ocean, vast and gentle; imagined conversation of things outside of war and leadership, of two lovers in their own world, the sun soft on their skin; imagined kisses, and cuddling, nose nudging; imagined being unapologetically happy, with hearts too big for their chest, words too small in meaning. She imagined never having to leave that wheat field.

“They come first. Being Heda,” she inhaled, exhaled, “comes first. At least, in death, I will be free to my dreams.”

 

She was pausing between words then; they felt heavy, and tiring to the tongue, and breathing was very much a conscious effort. She could no longer feel the wound, and did not know if that was a good thing. She could barely feel the earth around her, the bark of tree at her back, and her heart felt slow and weak. The world was a hazy thing, which was not so terrible. She wanted to go back to that wheat field. That was clear to her, vivid and alive.

 

Lincoln, unaware to the wheat field and that Lexa was outside of herself, took her in his arms, rested her head on his shoulder, swallowed, face impassive but eyes telling, eyes watering as Lexa’s breaths came slow – too slow – against his skin. He wasn’t supposed to move her, but she had saved his life, and it would not be long. _You have someone, people, who love you, waiting,_ she had said, as if that meant his life was worth more, as if she had no one.

“I have written letters,” she whispered, after a minute, after moments of quiet and death seeping in. “For Clarke, in the event of this, for them to be given. You will tell her?”

“Yes, Heda.”

“Please.”

“Lexa,” he conceded and swallowed, felt an ache, thick and tight in his throat: an invisible lump.

This was not meant to happen.

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.”

Another long wait interrupted them, more moments of soft breathing and silent words. He glanced up to the sky through the trees as he held her a little more securely, though softly. It was a cloudless early morning, very clear.

“I have…lived long for being Heda.”

“You have done well.”

“Do you think so?”

A party would have been sent by then, Lincoln mused. They will not arrive in time.

“There has never been as great a Heda, Lexa. Your fight has been worthy. Good.”

“I am so tired of fighting.”

“No one will have to fight anymore.”

She was so dreadfully tired. She breathed very heavily, thought of nothing but breathing. And that wheat field a little way from the city, that lake that simmered and glimmered under the light of the sun, the house and Clarke, with paint on her fingers, her smile wide and blue eyes un-haunted, lips soft and yielding. She could imagine it, clear as anything, as the sky she could not see.  

“I will wait for Clarke.” She was resolute in this.

*

The envoy arrived an hour later, with Indra and Octavia at the head of the group. They found him with Lexa unmoved in his arms, silent and dead, their words long since spoken; found him with eyes having leaked tears, mourning. He thought Clarke should have come, thought of Lexa waiting. Lexa deserved something, she deserved that. But Clarke was not there, and in this Lexa would have to keep waiting. At the thought, his chest, alive and beating, was filled with emotion of anger, of grief and the unfairness of the world, filled with gratitude and love. He looked up to Indra, her face stoic, brave and strong.

“She is dead?”

“She saved my life,” Lincoln said, voice deep and grave.

“She would always protect her people,” Indra replied.

“I did all I could.”

And she nodded.

“We’ll take her home now.”

“To Clarke,” he said, rose as he shifted Lexa in his arms. He was strong, his mouth a thin line. He would carry her, he decided.

“Lincoln.”

He turned his gaze to Octavia, was met with compassion and love. He will tell her he loves her, after. The events have been emotional on him.

“I’m sorry.”

*

News of Indra and Octavia’s return was swift through camp, but it came with a silence and a deeply felt loss. Clarke knew something was wrong, had felt it deep in her bones and veins for hours, like a disease working through her organs; there was a dread heavy in her stomach, and her heart didn’t beat the same. Something was wrong.

 

She had been with Raven, silent and brooding and worrying, when Bellamy came in. His mouth was tightly shut, his jaw clenched, and eyes apologetic. Something was wrong.

“They’re back,” he said, and she was up and out of her seat fast and impatient.

Bellamy shot Raven a look and she followed with him.

 

Octavia was waiting outside and Clarke took notice that she too had a gritted jaw, guarded eyes, as if trying to keep it all in. They were still not on the best of terms, but they were friendly, were getting there. Octavia didn’t know how Clarke would take it when she found out, but she felt it in Lincoln’s gaze, in his determination, that it wouldn’t be good. Indra seemed to be of similar opinion, and she didn’t know what to make of that.

“They’re in the Commander’s tent,” Octavia had told Clarke, once she had emerged outside, and then led the way.

 

Clarke noticed all the people, the grounders around the tent as she neared it, how silent they were. Indra was by the entrance, along with her mother and Kane. They appeared grave, and her Mother had this uncertainty in her eyes, that along with Indra’s single tear had her feel cold, and she knew something was very wrong, had already guessed the worst. Let her be wrong, she prayed, oh, let her be wrong.

 

She was not wrong.

 

Lexa was laid on a table, eyes closed and chest unmoving. She looked young, looked asleep, though the leader would never wake. Lincoln stood close by, like a guard dog, tears dried, barely evident on his face. The only one in the tent, he stood tall, stood strong.  Clarke hardly took notice, her eyes were instantly on Lexa; Lexa, who she saw just days ago, who was very alive, who had looked at her with vulnerable eyes that she couldn’t face for fear of getting lost in them, eyes she had to quickly look away from. She would never be able to look into those forest eyes again. Regret, many regrets, were already creeping through the cracks.

 

Clarke was not aware of the moving of her feet, the tears that had already started to fall silently. She thought she had a grip on her emotions, but Lexa was always a source of emotion, of unravelling, and suddenly she was by the table, Lincoln to her right, and she was shaking her head; because this – Lexa _dead_ – wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“No.”

She couldn’t be _gone_.

“She saved me," he said, quiet and sad, "I did all I could. We waited as long we could, her wound didn’t allow for movement.”

“No.”

Lincoln swallowed and blinked. “She had wanted to wait for you.”

She shook her head more firmly, fast, felt the tears stinging, staining, her mind whirling: not real, not real, not _real._ “No!”

“She has letters for you. She told me to tell you. They’ll arrive soon.”

A sob rumbled from her chest and escaped her throat, thick and aching.

“She said she will still be waiting for you.”

And she broke, cried aloud, chest heaving, lungs burning and suddenly her head felt dizzy, felt clouded and her heart torn. And it was real, oh so very real. She felt outside of herself, felt too much, overwhelmed and possessed by a deep grief, a physical pain. It was deeper than skin and bone and deeper than consciousness, this pain. Lincoln caught her as she fell, held her as she shook and shivered in unexpected loss, loss that rattled the soul.

“She loves you,” he said, aware the words would not likely help, would probably make things worse.

 

From the entrance her friends watched, having entered as soon as they heard Clarke sob, emotional and loose, a storm. They watched as she cried, crumbled in Lincoln’s arms. Abby had moved for comfort, stopped only by Octavia. The room was tense, felt small and uncomfortable, none having known the nature of Clarke’s relationship with Lexa, though there were guesses, were ponderings – Clarke had tried too hard to hate the Commander otherwise for the two to be nothing.

 

She had cried for nearly an hour, her eyes ringed red and blown, tears dried. It felt longer. She knew once she left that tent her shoulders would be stiff, her head even, eyes guarded and expression stoic. She would be the perfect picture of calm and control, of strength. Ryder had arrived with the supposed letters shortly after, to which she told everyone present to leave, as she sat near and by Lexa’s side, as if the commander was a patient, only sick and resting. Lincoln left first; the others were more reluctant, were unsure and caught like deer in the headlights.

 

The letters were heavy in her hands. There was a novel of them, she thought.  The papers were all folded nicely, with _Clarke_ written across the top on each, the writing surprisingly pretty, lines strong but not harsh. She read her name and imagined Lexa speaking it, and suddenly her eyes felt wet again. She wiped them away and opened the first, the paper rough and with small patches of evident tears dried long, long ago.

 

_Clarke,_

_I left you at the mountain hours ago. I left you and your people to die. I told you I was sorry, that I made the decision with my head, and not my heart. I am sorry, Clarke. Not for saving my people – I could never be sorry for this; their lives are my purpose, I am a slave to their needs. But I am sorry for hurting you, Clarke. I know, that you would never read this, because it is likely that you will be dead._

_But the decision was not easy, Clarke, though it should have been. They had guns to my people inside, ready to execute them should I have refused. They had whispered words of more missiles, on other villages that they had marked long ago. How could I risk this? Such factors should have made the decision simple, and easy. Save my people or let them die, for what? The sky people…? My losses would have been in the hundreds. I had quickly realised this, weighed the odds. Yes, such a decision should have been easy. But it was not, Clarke. I am glad it wasn’t. Because as soon as the Mountain Man offered the deal, showed me visual of my hostage people, all I could think of was you. All I could think of was what I would be giving up. No longer would I be able to take you to Polis, to show you the world, the lives of my people, my culture; no longer would I be able to wait for you to be ready, to kiss you and hold you. I wanted to say no to him. I wanted to be selfish. But I could not._

_I was told at a young age that all my people belonged to me to nurture, to flourish. It was years later I learned it was I that belonged to them. I made the decision with my head, and not my heart, Clarke._

_But know that your spirit will haunt me, forever. Know that if I could have chosen my heart, Clarke, I would always choose you. Know that now I am truly heartless, because all that was left of it, I left with you. Know that however much I hurt you, I have not come away painless, I have not come away unscarred._

_You were a weakness, Clarke, but the best kind of weakness. I had no chance, no choice, against falling for you. You, with sunlight hair, and eyes blue like the sky you came from, eyes that held storms and thoughts the depths of oceans. You, with such a strong spirit, which felt like home, felt familiar, to me. I fell for you. How could I not?_

_I had read about angels, in old scriptures and books. I do not believe such creatures exist, but you fell from the sky, were passionate and beautiful, and the likeness is similar in my mind. You puzzled me, Clarke, because you made me feel things I had tried to not feel for so long, and you challenged me. You challenged me, and you were so similar, and yet different, to me. I think it was why I felt, and feel, so strongly towards you.  I am not sorry for loving you, though the turn of events have left me grieving and aching in a worse, yet all too familiar way._

_I will never love again. Nor do I want to. Now my heart - my soul, belong to you, Clarke, eternally. For I believe that we are bound, by our experiences, and shall meet again in the next life. Perhaps life could be more than just surviving then, in a better time._

_I had left you there to live, knowing that you would attempt to conquer the Mountain still for your people. If I had more of a choice, I would have stayed, after freeing my people; I would have stayed. But I cannot abandon my people, just as you cannot abandon yours. Your death will forever be my greatest pain Clarke. May we meet again._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

There were moments of processing; the letter was carefully read, was thought inducing, was feeling invoking, and by the end of it Clarke was gnawing at her bottom lip with her teeth, was fighting stirred emotions of sudden anger, sudden regret and renewed grief - _grief_ , that old friend. She thought she knew Grief enough already. Yet here it was, grown, and with loss, because oh, _why did you never tell me, Lexa, why did you let me waste so much time determined to hate you?_

Clarke felt like crying, again, sniffled and pressed her head into her hands, exhausted. She could let the earth swallow her whole right there, she was suddenly so tired. But there were more letters.She lifted her head to Lexa’s still body, resisted the urge to touch Lexa’s face, her hands, her hair, to press a kiss to those cold lips that were once warm, to that forehead that burdened too many thoughts. She resisted these urges and instead opened the next.

 

_Clarke,_

_You are alive._

_My first thoughts and feelings were of profound relief, of thanks. You defeated the mountain, and I should not have been surprised. You have a brilliant mind, Clarke. But my scouts tell me you are not with your people, and my feelings had me wanting to find you immediately, to ensure that you are well. But I suspect you would hate me, or would hold distrust toward me, at the very least. I do not blame you. My presence would likely rile you, all I could offer is understanding. But know you still hold my trust, Clarke, always. Just knowing your alive has me breathing easier, lighter, because with you alive, so is my heart, and perhaps foolishly – hope. I do not know the future, Clarke, but I will do whatever it takes to protect you, now. I will do whatever it takes to reconcile with you. If that means giving you time, and space, I will happily wait forever. May we meet again, Clarke._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_It is said in old books that the moon does not shine on its own, that it is the light from a star, the sun. Maybe that is the way I am. Maybe it is only by your light I glow, otherwise to forever be shrouded in darkness. Maybe you are the sun and stars and sky, and I am the earth and moon, orbiting around you. Would I get too close, would you burn me, Clarke? Or will your light just shine on me in dreams, at night and in secret. Would I always long for you to look upon me?_

_There is a day when the sun and moon seem to meet, and we cannot look directly upon them for their greatness. Do you think our meeting again would be similar, Clarke?_

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I watched the sun rise today. It was beautiful. These small aspects of life give me some moments of harmony. I would have liked to watch it with you. But I know if I would ask this of you, it is unlikely you would accept. You cannot stand being in my presence, especially alone, for too long, I have noticed. I will have to have someone else suggest the activity to you. Perhaps it will grant you the same peace. Maybe one day, you wouldn’t mind watching the waking of morning together._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I set flowers by a tree that Anya used to train me by. I would like to show you the tree, one day. Anya would scoff at me, at my weakness. You make me weak, Clarke. But I have no choice in the matter. Do you think, in another life, you would be weak for me, too? I like to think so._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_There is this lake, and this wheat field. The hairs of it remind me of your own: gold, rich and yellow. And the water of the lake reminds me of your eyes, blue and deep. When I am feeling hopeful I think of us there. I have imagined hiding in that wheat field, by that lake, with you, dancing, and swimming. I would love you freely and wholly, and you would… you would let me. I think of building you a house, and you drawing, selling art to the people of Polis, while I bake bread. I have read the word bread has associations with the word life. I find this idea pleasing, and so I would not mind being a baker, when all the wars are won, and Heda is not such a burden.  I would ensure the well-fare of our people in the morning, then come home to you, and bake bread. I would hunt, and cut wood for the fire. Then we would read to each other, about the Old World. Sometimes I imagine a child too. You would make a wonderful mother, Clarke.  We would be happy and I wouldn’t hate myself. But I do not wonder on such things for long. They are foolish thoughts. I do not think I will find such peace in this life time. Maybe you could still have such dreams, Clarke. You are so much better than I, and deserve such things. If only I could give them to you. If only you would let me._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I found a stone today. It was blue, and as the light touches it, the shade of blue changes. It reminded me of your eyes. I thought to make a necklace out of it for you. Maybe one day you will let me give it to you._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_You were given art supplies, by Malia. She is a sweet lady, is she not? I know you may not have time for such things, or simply feel you cannot. Still I wanted you to have them, even if you do not know they are from me. I feared you would reject them if you knew. Malia said you thanked her, were grateful, and your eyes weren’t so heavy for a moment. I wish I could have seen the moment._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I started building that house, by the lake and the wheat field. I want to finish it so you may have a home, when it is over. There will a fire place, so you will be warm, and bookcases for reading, and room for art, because you are a creator, with colours, and brushes. There can be a garden too. I think you would like planting. I particularly like flowers. And the windows will be strong, but wide, for a nice view, and so the sun can cast its glow. I want it to feel like home for you._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_The festivities were nice. Your people seemed to have enjoyed themselves. I am glad for that. I am glad you are with us against the Ice Queen as well. I do not know what I would do if I had to fight against you, Clarke. I do not think I could directly or intentionally harm you. I think… I would let you kill me. I know you have thought such things. I understand. There is nothing to be forgiven should you ever act on such thoughts. You have my heart, Clarke; you may do with it what you wish. I do not think you understand this though, and I do not know whether to be thankful for it. I trust you with it still. Maybe one day you will trust me with your own._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_You spoke my name, instead of Commander, for the first time in weeks. I do not know if it was the slip of the tongue, but I am glad you still recognize it. I am glad I am still partially Lexa, to you, to someone. I am Heda to everyone else. Sometimes, Clarke, I forget I exist._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I like speaking your name. The way it sounds from my mouth, how it rolls off my tongue. It is a strong name. It is unique, and simply you. It is one of my favourite words. When we were forming an alliance and planning war, if there was an apt opportunity to say it, Clarke, I would. You have a lovely name, Clarke. I did some investigating, in old books, and it means scholar, clerk. Did you know this? I think it suits you. My full name is Alexandria. But I do not wish for you to call me this, as it is formal. I like being Lexa, to you. My name means protector of mankind. Did you know that too, Clarke? It is a nice meaning, though it carries a heavy burden. But I do not feel that weight when you say my name, Clarke. Thank you._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_Your house is finished, and in time for war, as well. I had been staying it in, for the few weeks it took. You seemed to have been frustrated during that time with no one telling you of my whereabouts. I am sorry for this. But it is a surprise, Clarke. I hope you will like it. I had help with the exterior, but I did all the furniture myself. It took many late nights and early mornings, but I am glad my hands have created something, like yours do, instead of destroy. It is a nice feeling. I hope everyone feels this way._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I saw you smiling today. It was small. But your eyes were light. I am happy for you. Maybe one day you will smile at me again._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_You looked beautiful, today. You look beautiful every day, but I felt compelled to write it down on this day, because the sun caught your hair in that way, and it seemed to dance, and your eyes were a particular blue, like the lake at noon. Then there were your hands, and your lips. I wanted to kiss those hands, and your lips, to savour them. I was enchanted._

_But I could not tell you this, could not act. I have no such right, anymore, if I had any at all. And when you looked at me, for the few moments you did, your eyes changed to the lake at night. I drown in those eyes regardless._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I think of you always._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_There are songs, of the Old World. I do not know their music but have read some of their words. They are like poetry. This is from a song ‘I Will Never Let You Know’. It reminds me of the Mountain._

_I will hold my head up high_

_You will never see me cry_

_I’ll smile and say ‘I’m good’_

_But I will fall apart if I could_

_I’m inside out, shot through the centre_

_Feel the scar of where you entered_

_Took my life and turned it upside down_

_I’m burned to ashes, split down the middle_

_If anyone asks, it hurt just a little_

_I died inside the day I let you go_

_But I will never let you know_

_I do not think I could be allowed to smile. And while Heda’s cannot fall apart, I did cry, that night. Sometimes, at night, I still do. I miss you, Clarke._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_You looked at me without obvious disdain today._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_There a books in the library back in Polis, books of words that express things, called poems. Perhaps you had looked at them. I expect the art took more of your attention, if you visited. But reading poems was a favourite pastime of mine when learning English. People wrote such pretty words, in the Old World. Eloquent, and graceful, a string of words made me feel and think on many things. But I was not meant to feel, to show weak emotions, so I felt rebellious in reading and feeling such things that I had to contain and keep secret._

_Love was a frequent topic in poems. I never quite understood them, what they said, about love. Some of it I did, with love of my parents, of my mentors and protectors Anya and Gustus, and of Costia. No sooner I learnt the pains of love as well. Poems talked of people leaving, and being alone. So I understood more._

_But these poets spoke of a world-shattering love, a constant thing, which endures hardship; a love that was somehow tremendous, yet small and gentle too; a love that comes so thick and smooth and seamless, like happiness, it feels like nothing at all when it happens, yet everything; a love that makes you whole, and soul strong. They say such fantastical things much better than I – you should read them, Clarke. But I understand what they say, now. This love is what I hold for you, Clarke. Perhaps, one day, I can read you these poems. Maybe one day you will read them to me._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I am feeling hopeful, and whimsical. I think we should dance, at the next celebrations. I would like to ask you to dance. I do not usually. I can’t, as to preserve reputation. But I would like to dance with you. Maybe in the house, by the lake. You could paint, and I will make you flower crowns, and we would laugh and dance. I think it would be…nice, though unusual for me. But I had dreamt it. In my dreams there were no wars. I kissed you and you no longer pulled away, I was no longer waiting._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_It has been six months since the night of my betrayal.  You do not openly glare at me, or have obvious anger toward me anymore. You still avoid me, if possible, and have short conversations out of necessity. I will continue to wait until you are ready._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_If I could, I would tell you were beautiful every day. I would give you flowers to wake up to._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_How do I love thee?_ _Let me count the ways._  
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.  
I love thee to the level of every day's  
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.  
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;  
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.  
I love with a passion put to use  
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.  
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose  
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,  
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,  
I shall but love thee better after death.

_A love poem by an author with the name Elizabeth. It was very faded. But it speaks to me._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I was going to try to talk to you, today. I was going to talk about the Mountain, and try to make greater progress with you, because I’m tired of not being able to be near you. But you walked away. I understand. Until you are ready, I will wait._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_When I was little, I wanted to be a farmer and house-builder, like my father. He had rough, but gentle hands. Different yet similar to a warriors. He would tell me stories and his hands moved and formed pictures, and he used to pick me up, and hold me so I may be closer to the sky. In this, I like to think I was always yearning for you._

_My father died when I was young, but I remember his hands. I think I knew how to love from him._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I saw you hug your mother. It made me happy, because you have her, and your friends. You should savour those hugs, Clarke. I did not hug my mother much, when she was alive, I do not think. I do not remember. It has been years since I have been hugged. I feel it is perhaps a loss, for me. I have seen the power of hugs; have likely experienced their comfort, though the memories, the feelings, are mostly lost to me. I think it would be nice to hug you Clarke. I think it would be one of my favourite things, other than kissing you._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I do not like myself. I accept myself, but I do not… I do not think I am good. But you, Clarke, in loving you I forget such things. I forget to hate myself. You make me feel normal, and human. I do not feel alone, with you. You make me feel alive, Clarke._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_I have been alive for twenty-two years now. I did not believe in the special qualities of such days that marked your age, but you looked at me today and your eyes weren’t so harsh, so maybe there is something to them._

_There is an old tradition of wishing upon a candle. I wished you would sleep peacefully. I know how the ghosts haunt at night. I also wished to be alive. Most Heda’s have not lived past nineteen summers, as in the past there was much war and sickness and famine and various other harbingers of death. I had not wished to live before, had not wished at all. But I have yet to make peace with you, and I felt I was doing more than just surviving, when I wished upon two candles. I did not think I deserve the feeling. But you do, Clarke. Maybe, when I marked of twenty-three years, after this war, I can tell you, and we might wish upon candles together. Maybe there will be no more wars, and I won’t need to wish to be alive so that you may trust me, but rather I will wish to be alive so that I may love you, as much as I am allowed to._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_The snow began falling. I wanted to wake you, so you may first experience it. But such a moment should not be tainted by my presence, as it would be in your eyes, I am sure. So I sent Lincoln to you, as he would wake Octavia also._

_You smiled, fully._

_I only watched for a moment. It was enough. I must go over our war plan, now._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_Clarke,_

_There is a book, very old, about a man, and his long journey home. It is called the Odyssey. It takes him over a decade to reach home to his family. Will it take that long for us, Clarke? I will wait even if it takes longer. You are my home, if not my people. Even if you do not love me, even if you are never ready, that is acceptable. Sometimes loving is more important than being loved. Being Heda has taught me this. Sometimes, Clarke, one must be content with just surviving, if it means others experience living. I may not deserve more, Clarke, but you are better than me. You can be loved. You have people that love you. When this war is over, you should let yourself be happy, Clarke._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

 

_Clarke,_

_I wanted to tell you before we parted ways for impending battle in a few days’ time, but I could not. So I will write it._

_I think, if not for being Heda, I was born to love you. Since my eyes first fell onto yours._

_Ai hod yu in, Klark. Always.  You are home to me, and I am weak for you._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

 

_Clarke,_

_We will win, I am sure of it. Soon. Finally, there will be peace._

_I…I do not think I will live to see it, Clarke._

_But I will try to come back. I will not leave you again, if I can help it. I have to show you that house._

_Yours,_

_Lexa_

_I will wait for you. May we meet again._


	2. for you I’ll wait till kingdom come (until my days are done)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarkes letters, and then clexa peace

_My love, leave yourself behind, Beat inside me, leave you blind. My love, look what you can do_

_I am mending, I’ll be with you – my love, sia_

_My love, take your time. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side - Hamilton, Lin Manuel Miranda_

 

_Lexa,_

_I don’t know where to start. How to go about all this. I’m just – I’m still processing. It feels a little bit like I have a cold. I sniffle and my voice is – it’s like I’m verge of crying, but I’m not. I’m done crying. So I’m just going to write. Like you did._

_It’s been a few days, since I read the letters, since you died. Just writing that, those words, is surreal. It doesn’t feel right. This change doesn’t feel right. Everything is just… different._

_I don’t know what I’m doing._

_But I know I needed to start doing this. You will never read them. But I need this. I need to talk to you._

_I’m so angry at you._

_I’m angry at you for hiding; for not talking to me about the Mountain. I know I didn’t make it easy. I know I didn’t give you a chance, and you were so respectful of me, of my feelings. But you could have yelled, cornered me or just – you should have made me listen. Just – something._

_So I’m angry at you for letting our chance slip away, and I’m angry at you for dying. But mostly, I’m angry at myself._

_I could have done more. I could have addressed things, rather than ignore them like I did. Sometimes being stubborn doesn’t work out so well. If only I talked to you, Lexa. God, then…_

_You need to know I forgive you. I forgave you a while ago. I remembered forgiveness wasn’t and isn’t about what anyone deserves, it’s just something you choose. I don’t know if I deserve to be forgiven for what I did, Lexa, at the mountain. We both had our reasons for what happened that night. Whether or not you deserved it, I forgave you. You had my forgiveness. Not my trust. That needed more time._

_But I always did understand your decision Lexa; it hurt, it hurt so much. But I understood it. Maybe that’s why it hurt as much as it did. We had understanding, and you kissed me. And it was tender, it was hopeful and tinged with sadness and relief, with passion. It was human, and something else entirely, and I was lost in it. We kissed but I told you - I told you not yet and then you had to betray me but still I understood you, and you understood me and – we could have – how could you Lexa? How could you leave me alone, now, after everything? God, I’m crying again. I thought that part was over.  Damnit Lexa… I need you. I’ve_ always _needed you. I forgot that for a while. It’s just my luck that it takes you… I still can’t believe you’re gone. I can’t._

_Lexa,_

_I didn’t finish the first letter yesterday. Didn’t even sign it. I just needed a moment, a long moment, and then I couldn’t write. Sorry. But then I guess I’m sorry for a lot of things. So I guess I’ll just… write, and hope I don’t cry anymore._

_Once I finished your letters, I had so many feelings I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was in your tent for hours. I think I cried a river. I was a mess. I still am._

_Octavia and Raven came back in, at some point. I think they read some of the letters. I hope that’s okay? I’m not sure though, I’ll have to ask them, eventually, when all of this still isn’t so… when I’m better._

_I think they just wanted to understand. But I was in no condition to explain. I don’t know if I could explain it, explain us. My eyes were blurry from crying so much. My throat was so dry, and I just – I didn’t want to speak. I just remember being overwhelmed. I felt so many feelings, I didn’t know what to do with any of them. Then I just couldn’t cry anymore and I was left with this emptiness. This feeling that something was missing, something was lost. I didn’t want to leave you. You loved me so much. So much._

_And you’re wrong, you know. You’re still a liar… you deserve happiness Lexa, just as much as me. You’re not lesser. We’re the same, remember? Or at least… two sides of the same coin. You’re a person Lexa. You’re not a god. You exist - existed, and you have feelings and wants, but you give – gave – up so much. You’re so strong. Your people loved you and I – I’m such an idiot. It took you dying, and those letters, dwelling on them and re-reading them, for me to accept it but Lexa I couldn’t… I couldn’t help loving you either. I couldn’t help falling for you._

_I didn’t want to. I was so angry, and hurt, and broken, by the Mountain. I still am. You made and make me feel so many things. I wasn’t ready when you kissed me, and then with the Mountain everything just fell apart, but my feelings – those feelings of wanting you, falling for you, those never left. I ignored them though. And it was so easy, so easy to be angry. At you; at myself. I needed time. If only I hadn’t taken so long._

_And then there’s your letters. I think of them, and I keep reading them again, and I feel so much, and I don’t know how to deal with these feelings because – because how can I love you when you’re gone? How can I do anything at you when you’re gone?_

_You know during the war with the Mount Weather you were my anchor. I had all these people depending on me and telling me that I was just a kid, and there was all this pressure. Everyone was counting on me, but judging me. Do you know the saying heavy is the head that wears the crown? You probably do – did._

_But you, Lexa, you didn’t judge me. Not like that. You trusted me, listened to me, and tried to support me with those lessons. God, I hated them. But I knew I needed to hear those things. I couldn’t have saved my people without them, without you, Lexa._

_And you talked to me. We talked to each other and we listened to one another. You were calm and you were peace and patience and you don’t know how much I missed that this last war. Everyone was – is – so tense, all the time. I was tense too. I was … my mind after the mountain – I wasn’t in a good place. I felt alone, among other things. But a part of me always knew I had you, Lexa, to understand, to support, as you did in the war before the betrayal.  But now you’re… and I know, I_ know _I can do this alone. I just really wished I didn’t have to. I’ll be wishing that forever._

_When your body burns on the pyre your spirit will be gone. A new Commander – Heda – would be chosen. The thing is I can’t imagine anyone else. I don’t want to deal with anyone else. They’re not you. No one is you._

_Sometimes I think I still see you, or feel you. I was looking over maps earlier and I half-expected you to walk into the tent and advise I got some rest. Or drink some water. Am I insane? There are ghosts from the Mountain that still creep up on me. I don’t like those ghosts. But I wouldn’t mind you. It’s selfish but I don’t want to let you go. I want to keep writing. I feel like it’s the only thing that makes sense right now. Talking to you. Drawing you. But I have to go do things._

_I’m a little worried the Coalition might fall apart without you. Things have been better, not so shaky, since the Mountain and this war but – you know how much I worry. I have to go._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I stayed for the whole burning. You would have been proud. I hope. I don’t really remember it. I mean, I do. But it was – I felt out of myself. Like I was there but I wasn’t. I remember speaking your words and speaking about you, praising you. It was a beautiful ceremony. I didn’t cry at all. I didn’t smile, I didn’t express anything. I kept it all inside._

_How did you do it all the time? Keep things in? A part of me aches, somewhere in my chest to my stomach. It’s like this weight and, and keeping it inside just makes it heavier, when I think about it, when I feel. You are so strong. Were. Damnit._

_We’ll be heading to Polis soon. Well, today but – everything feels far away. There will be celebrations when we get there. For our victory. I can’t… they’ll be celebrating you too. Your life. Your death. But none of them, no one – they didn’t know you. Lexa, they didn’t. I mean they did, few truly did but, they knew you as Heda Leska. Not just you._

_You said – you said you were glad that you were still Lexa to me. You were never anything but. I mean you were also the Commander. That title would always be a part of you. But you were never just that to me. When I first met you it didn’t matter that you were the Commander, only that you had the power to help save my friends. Then you became so much more. And, you were familiar to me too, Lexa. Your strength, your spirit. I don’t know about reincarnation, but, I like to think we met before. Maybe in every lifetime._

_I just keep thinking._

_I don’t know what to think. I miss you. I even miss being angry at you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I watch the sun rise every morning on the journey to Polis. If I can, I’ll continue to. I didn’t get to watch any sunrises with you, like you hoped. Maybe one day. But I think of you every morning._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_My friends are skirting around me still. No one says your name, unless it’s needed. I told them it’s fine but I know whenever I hear it something in my face is telling. No matter how much I try to hide it. There are small moments when I think, that I am fine. On the outside maybe. But inside I’m breaking, Lexa._

_Indra started talking about the process of finding the next commander. I left the tent. I don’t need to hear how. I don’t want to know the who. I know it’s important for your people, for our people. But I can’t Lexa. I can’t think about that. So I left the tent and went to my own where I read your letters._

_I do that now. I read your letters every night before I go to sleep. I read them and I hear your voice, and see you and I feel you. It doesn’t make sense. But I feel close to you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_Why did you die._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I thought I was done being angry but I’m not. We were meant to heal together, Lexa. We were meant to fill the cracks in us, and be whole, together. But now it’s all fucked up. I won’t be whole again. Not in this lifetime. No matter how much I heal. No one understands. Why did you have to be noble?_

_When I’m feeling bitter I wonder if Lincoln died in your stead. I know. I feel bad enough as it is. It’s a selfish thought. Lincoln is amazing. I talked to him, about when you… he’s been a good friend. I think he’s the only one that truly understands what losing you means, to me. He was your friend, and he loves Octavia so much. Those two are strong, together. They make sense. We made sense to. Lexa we made sense. But you’re gone. And Now I don’t make sense. Not with anyone else. Fuck you, Lexa. You were meant to live. We were meant to live together. Life was meant to be more with you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_It comes in waves. The grief. The anger. There are days when I feel neither of those feelings. Then they sneak up on me. All the time I’m missing you though. I don’t understand it. I don’t want this ache all the time. It hurts. It hurts because I love you. But you’re not here to love. And I don’t get it. Because when you were here I didn’t feel this. There’s a saying that you only realise what you got when it’s gone. That only in its definite absence do our feelings fully reveal their nature. Screw that._

_I thought we had time. I thought I had time._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I think of all the times you did these things little things for me. Like sending Lincoln to wake me up for the snow. Of the art supplies, and the baths and the meals and clothes fittings and horse tending and all these things you got others to do for me. Some of them I knew you had a part in. Others I didn’t, but wish I did. It would have helped Lexa. It would have, if I knew. But thank you. For being considerate. I’m sorry I didn’t smile enough for you to see._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I asked to be taken to your house. I mean – my house. I avoided it, for just a bit. But I need to keep my sanity. I can’t be stuck in limbo forever. So I finally visited the house. I’m in it now._

_It’s beautiful, Lexa._

_It smells of you. God, that’s creepy. But you know what I mean. It feels familiar, and safe. The fields and the lake are lovely. I looked over them and imagined us, here, as you did. But then my heart was hurting too much, so I stopped._

_The necklace is stunning, too. I love it. I’ll wear it, every day. I swear._

_I don’t think I’m as good with words as you, for this, but I – thank you. Lexa. Thank you._

_I keep looking around and imagining the life we could have had. It’s a bit weird, thinking that, of the future. We live so much in the present. But I feel – I don’t know about soulmates or the one or anything. I never thought about love much. I’ve felt a lot but I never thought on it. I don’t remember thinking about it. But I think you were mine. I feel you were mine. Whatever my future, you were mine. I look at this house and these fields and I see it. I look at Polis and I see it. Us. Together._

_I just keep seeing you._

_And you know, I think I’d be the one be baking bread, and you’d be carving wood, and planting the flowers. You’re good with that knife._

_That reminds me, I kept it. Your knife. I have it with me, all the time. It grounds me, like you did._

_I look at it sometimes and think back to when I first saw you. You were so powerful in that chair. A part of me was enraptured then. Even though at the time, all I could think about was saving my people, ensuring their safety, making sure we had peace. I wanted to make things right so badly. Here I was standing in front of the Commander, who looked no older than me. I didn’t know what or who I thought the Commander to be but, I was – you, you exceeded whatever I thought, if I had any thoughts._

_I so worried I’d fuck everything up more than. I kept a brave face. But a part of me thinks we both did._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_When I woke up from the pauna, you said I was safe. For the first I could remember on the ground, I believed that. Thank you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_They haven’t found the commander. They want me to do the conclave. I don’t know how to feel. On one hand, I don’t have to deal with someone else. If I pass that is. And… it’ll bring you closer to me. It would make sense. But I don’t know if I could do it alone. I mean, you’d be with me? Wouldn’t you? But…it’s different. I don’t know Lexa. I just don’t know anymore. I didn’t ask for any of this. But neither of us did. And that’s the other hand. The responsibility, the pressure. Everyone, grounders and sky people, one, would be looking to me. I just hope in some spiritual way I could still look to you. I feel like I do. I imagine what you’d say or do given a situation. There’s the pressure of keeping up what you’ve made, what you’ve accomplished for your people. I may be legend to the people Lexa but you – you were something else, you were something divine to them. You’re hard shoes to fill. I wish there wasn’t any shoes to fill at all._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I like speaking your name too. And if you were here, I’d dance with you. I wish you asked me to dance._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_Guess who’s the Commander?_

_Not one of those generals of yours. Ha. I mean, a lot of them died in the Ton DC bombing but – anyway. I don’t want to say it because once I do it’s real and finalised but I need to face it so… I’m Heda. Now. I’m sorry. Not that – I mean, I wish I didn’t have to be. You know, I wish… You’re meant to be Heda. I’m meant to be leading beside you, not… not this. But like I said before it’s better than someone else. Dealing with someone else. And it makes sense, because you – I’ve never let you go. I think the Heda spirit is separate to the soul. But it is tied to us._

_I still don’t know how any of this works but the council seems to be happy with the result, the findings._

_There is some…discourse. I’m a sky person, and even with the alliance, things aren’t completely fine between the people. But I’m ‘WanHeda’ to your people too. I’ve done enough to earn their respect, so I don’t think war will break out. I hate that title, you know. WanHeda. Commander of Death. But it stops people from causing trouble. It stops conflict. It garners respect. So I’ll bare it._

_Now our people will truly be one. There’s a ceremony, to be had. I have good news too._

_Lincoln and Octavia are getting married! Well, will have a union._

_The first of our people._

_I have a good feeling Lexa. I mean, there will be hard times but, I think the worst of everything is over. I think this will be the start of the merging of our people._

_Lexa,_

_I miss you. I miss you so much._

_Yours_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I’m sorry for Anya. She was someone close to you, or as close as one could be given everything. I think. I’m not sure, but I know you cared. I’m sorry for all you lost, when we met. Anya. Gustus. Your people. I’m sorry I didn’t – I was so focused on my people, on the loses I could have lost, on my sacrifices I didn’t – I’m sorry._

_I wasn’t completely honest with Anya’s death. She did die by my side, trying to get a message to you, in a plea for peace. But she was – my people, they gunned her down. They thought we were the enemy. She was leaving and they – I tried to save her but they – and they didn’t know it was me – I couldn’t. I’m sorry._

_I asked Lincoln about the tree, and I took flowers there. I painted her too. She deserved to be honoured._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I hug my mother and my friends more, for you. I wish I hugged you. I’m going to hug you so much when I see you again. I know we’ll see each other again. It might be selfish of me but I don’t want you to reincarnate. Not yet. I know it’s selfish but wait for me. I don’t know when I’ll die. I hope I die happy, but, wait for me._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_Octavia and Lincolns bonding ceremony was beautiful. I’m so happy for them. We integrated a little bit of sky people traditions, but, it was very much grounder. We’re all grounders now anyway._

_I kept thinking of you throughout it. I thought - thought maybe, if we were the first to bond, it would be the true merging of our people. I kept thinking. For a little bit, Octavia tried to encourage me to, well, look…around. Things are better between us. Healed. Anyway, she tried but Lincoln talked to her and, I think she gets it, because she loves Lincoln._

_We didn’t have much Lexa. We didn’t have time to sort through our feelings, to actually be together but – we just fit. And I’m so busy with everything that  even if I think I could even contemplate – which I don’t – I couldn’t._

_They also announced her pregnancy. No surprise really, with how they go at it._

_I think I would have made a good mother. With you. I think you would too. You were so gentle with me Lexa. I think you would be the doting mother, honestly._

_As Heda I take in orphans. I mean, you know that. But there’s the orphanage. They live by our house. I mean, my house. Sorry it’s just – a lot of your stuff is in it. Now. I know the Commander traditionally sleeps where I stayed before, where you slept too but – I can’t leave it. The house. It’s more vulnerable to possible attacks but, it’s home. It’s one of the last things I have of you and I can’t – I love you. I don’t write that enough – I don’t think I actually have – because it’s hard, because you aren’t here and I don’t know how it makes sense but it does and I do. Love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I wish I could rage to you about Polis politics. Some days, I swear, Lexa, I’m going to strangle someone._

_Sorry. On a much nicer note, Octavia and Lincoln birthed a baby girl, called Aurora, after her mother. She’s beautiful. So I’m an auntie now._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_I go to the library quite a bit. I started reading poems. They aren’t my favourite, honestly. But, I get it. I get what they say. It helps._

_I love you._

_I want to say that, now. I’m going to keep signing off on that._

_I love you. I miss you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_So I don’t want to bore you with politics and the running of things because you probably know enough._

_Things are good. Really busy, but good. There’s been celebrations but I’ve always had to oversee so many things._

_Trade routes are safe, no one is in war. It’s just small quarrels and ensuring the betterment for people, helping build more villages, using our knowledge from the sky to help with farming and plant growth. Using our medical knowledge for the sick and wounded._

_The house doesn’t smell like you, anymore. But I still feel you. It’s been a few months now. I have a lot of drawings of you. Of us. What I imagine, sometimes._

_Some people… they don’t know if it’s healthy but – Mum gets it. I think. She said, she’d have photos of Dad up, if she could. Of them smiling together, a family._

_I spend my morning dealing with the politics of overseeing everything, but, with advisors, the day’s aren’t usually long. Unless there is a particular matter to debate about, like there were in the beginning of integrating our cultures and communities. Of policies and – sorry I don’t mean to bore you._

_I do art, for the people. Not heaps. But I draw more now and I learned to bake bread, and plant._

_You were right, too. I like planting. The feel of the earth is nice. I remember when I first landed, back when I knew nothing about this place, how amazing it was. It reminds of that feeling. And you always smelled a bit of the earth, so it makes up for the bed no longer smelling like you. I still feel a bit weird whenever I write something like that. I don’t mean to be a creep._

_I have a grave for you. I mean I have some of your ashes. Near the house. I hope that’s okay? I just, I just needed a part of you. I know I have other things but, you’re remains are different. They’re nice to have. It’s a comfort thing, I guess. I go there and talk to you. Some things I mention here, other things I don’t, things that I feel better confessing aloud. I talk or I just sit silently._

_I just – your letters, they’re love letters. Mine – I don’t know. I’m not poetic like you. I want to get it all down. What I love about you. What made me fall for you. I just don’t think words explain it very well. I just hope you know._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_You said my death was to be your greatest pain. Your death is mine._

_I love you,_

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_Your eyes were my favourite thing. They expressed things you didn’t say. I remember looking into them and forgetting what century I was in. I don’t think I ever get them right. But I do my best._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_Things have been no different with the peace of our people. We’ve prospered. But there’s a sickness that’s spreading. It hasn’t reached Polis. I think it’ll pass with winter._

_Aurora is adorable. She has a baby brother now, and a cousin. Bellamy and Echo had their first born, a girl._

_My Mum and Kane are together, too by the way. I mean, they have been for the last year and a bit. It’s no surprise. I’m glad she’s found someone to be happy with. Raven still thinks I should try to be with someone, like Mum has. Mum and Kane get each other though, like Octavia and Lincoln. You’re dead and I still feel like you’re the only one who truly gets me._

_Anyway, I miss you._

_I love you,_

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_There was a girl during a celebration that had green eyes and brown hair. I didn’t take her home. I never do. I know I’ve told you this at the grave. I don’t deny myself, when the need is particularly strong. There’s only been two, both once. I mean, I’d told you. I just – I feel bad. I’ve used them. It’s just – it’s been so long, Lexa, so long. But I still have this void in my chest and I still love you. Being Heda, being a leader, makes it hard anyway to even try but I don’t want to. You said, in the first letter, that you’ll never love again. And I won’t either. I don’t know if I’ve said it exactly, because I never re-read my letters to you but, I’m yours too. I know you’re waiting. We both are._

_I love you. I miss you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_The kids – the orphans, they tell me stories about you. It doesn’t hurt to hear about you anymore, by the way. I like the reminders that you were real. As real to them as you are – were – to me._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_So I’m twenty-two today. It’s been four years, can you believe that?  I’ve been wishing upon my candles, every year, and I think of you. I wish that you didn’t die. In a way you didn’t. You live on in me._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_So I found some song lyrics too. I think it’s called you and me. The book was faded. It has heaps of song lyrics though. It took time to figure some of them out. I’ve taken up guitar too, now. I’d like to sing to you._

_You and me were always with each other_

_Before we knew the other was ever there_

_You and me we belong together_

_Just like a breath needs the air_

_I told you if you called I would come running_

_Across the highs and lows and the in-between_

_You and me we’ve got two minds that think as one_

_And our hearts march to the same beat_

_They say everything happens for a reason_

_You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person_

_Someone who will be there for you when you fall apart_

_Guiding your direction when you’re riding through the dark_

_Oh that’s you and me_

_You and me we’re searching for the same light_

_Searching for a cure to this disease_

_Well some days are better than others_

_I fear no thing so long as you’re with me_

_I love you Lexa. I don’t know how I still do. We never got to do anything with our feelings. But I still feel you in our house and I still feel you with me when leading our people and I still hear your voice, and I still see you. I still look out to the wheat fields and see us. I’m still weak, for you._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_You’re good. I haven’t mentioned it before, but I noticed – and it hurts me – that you think yourself so bad, Lexa. Because you’re not. You’re not._

_I want to thank you too. For everything, from the moment we met. Well, not everything. There are things I could have done without, but, thank you. I love you._

_I think… I don’t think you’ll be waiting much longer. Do you remember that sickness I told you about?_

_Well, it’s pretty serious. People have died from it. And I have it. Lucky me._

_It doesn’t hurt, supposedl . You get really tired, and really cold, and it’s just like falling asleep. It’s a slow process, because it just shuts down your immune system._

_Mum’s come to stay from Camp Jaha, come to confined me to bed. So I haven’t been busy doing things and distracting myself. Basically, I’m going to be drawing and reading from my bed. Fun. I might play some chess too. I can’t wait to teach you that game, if you don’t know it._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke._

_Lexa,_

_Octavia and Lincoln visit often. My other friends have too, those who don’t reside in Polis. Aurora likes for me to read to her._

_I’m so tired. I can’t get through books. Just your letters._

_I’m scared, but at the same time, I’m not. Does that make sense?_

_I don’t want to die, but, a part of me has always just been surviving. And things have been so good with our people. There’s no more hate, no more distrust. We’ve been one people for a long time now._

_I’ll miss everyone so much. But they all have each other, and people they love, for support, for when the time comes. And it’s not sudden. My mum has cried a lot, and she’s better. She’ll cry again once I’m gone, but, there’s closure for everyone this way. They say it won’t be long. I don’t what to expect but, it doesn’t feel wrong. I’mleaving behind good memories._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

_Lexa,_

_Ai hod yu in, Leska. Always.  You are home to me, too, and I am weak for you._

_You don’t have to wait anymore. May we meet again._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Clarke_

There was a box, plain and unassuming of a rich wood that Clarke suspected Lexa had crafted herself, sanded and smoothed, that she had her letters placed in. She placed the last of them there, her letters and Lexa’s sharing the same space, dust and meaning, as they had for years and all years to come. She loved those letters, liked her own, but loved Lexa’s; and should history disappear and perish, Clarke would be happy for that box and those letters and those words to be the only proof she or Lexa ever existed. So tenderly, carefully, Clarke placed the last of her letters with the lot of them, so many of them, in the box, closed it and set it aside on her bed. What will become of them, she didn’t know.  One last time, one last look, Clarke would have liked to read Lexa’s letters; would have liked to hear Lexa’s voice as she did so, trace the penmanship, the words and the strength of them once more. But she was so tired, worn and wearied from the sickness.

 

“How you feeling Princess?”

All these years, Bellamy, Octavia, Raven – they stilled called her that stupid nickname, on the occasion. She had wondered if Lexa ever would have, if she had lived, had gone on to hear them refer to her as such. Clarke didn’t think she would. At most, possibly Prisa, and she imagined it spoken in reverence, in respect, because Lexa would never mock a title, not hers. But she would always prefer it when Lexa called her Clarke, having always said it in such a way that was uniquely _Lexa_.

“Peachy,” she smiled, small and sincere with eyes crinkling at the corners.

He smiled back, sure and saddened, as they all did, because they knew the next time she slept she wouldn’t wake, slumbering an eternal sleep.

There had been a small gathering, a celebration, of food and drinks and laughter and happiness – _peace_ – at her house. She did not want this to be a day of pain, of loneliness, of regrets and quiet dread that simmered and sneaked into the soul during the wait and wonderings of a loved one passing. She didn’t want it to be a day of death, when life is much better, much more meaningful.

“Can I have this?”

Clarke’s eyes shifted to Octavia, who held a drawing of them all, and another, of Lincoln and Aurora and herself – a family drawing. She thought to make a joke of her not yet being dead and already her things being taken, but she was too tired, so she nodded, sighed and closed her eyes.

“Take whatever you want.”

“Hey Clarke,” Octavia said, her voice closer to her ears, the shuffling of bed sheets subtle but audible. “We’ll take care of everything. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Clarke thought to a Pauna attack years ago, of a Commander who was ready to die with words that death wasn’t the end, until she said she wasn’t, and so the Commander – Lexa, brave and beautiful, that only minutes ago was ready for death, took up a knife to fight.

“I don’t fear death O, it isn’t the end.”

“I know you don’t.”

Clarke’s eyes opened, the weight of them heavy, and lips tugged a ghost of smile, like that of the previous Heda. She took to a few of Lexa’s mannerisms over the years.

“Where’s Raven?”

“Getting your Mum.”

“Good, I think I’m ready. As I’ll ever be at least. I’m so tired. God, I feel old.”

She felt her hand being taken and turned her head to Lincoln, who had become one of her dearest friends and allies; she squeezed his hand softly, barely, and smiled for him.

“Your soul is. You’ve been a good Heda.”

“You think so?”

And he smiled, because the words were so familiar, to the previous Heda, to their conversation.

“Your fight has been good.”

“We haven’t had to fight for a while,” Clarke chuckled, coughed and breathed.

“Lexa made sure.”

“I’ll say hi for you.”

“She’ll be waiting.”

Clarke closed her eyes and sighed, “Not anymore.”

 

If wasn’t long after those that mattered had gathered, wasn’t long after some final reminisces and words of comfort and care were said that Clarke passed, and the grounder words were spoken. There were tears and sudden feelings of finality, of expected grief and loss but the world kept spinning, and they held onto each other. Clarke’s house, untouched, uninhabited, was to be preserved, her drawings archived, and the letters sanctioned for history to remember their love, the bitter-sweetness of it, of a look and glance to some of the feelings of the greatest Heda’s that was, in a pinnacle point of life.

 

*

 

Warmth and light, naturally and bathing, were Clarke’s first sensations, sensing the sun on her skin. The air was fresh and easy, was the smell of pine trees, of summer breeze and wheat and the moisture of water nearby. She knew this scene, this picture.

She walked, palms open and fingers dancing and caressing the golden hairs of the earth, soft and yielding. Her eyes were to the blue sky, healthy with coughs of clouds white like teeth smiling, the day bright and lovely as good weather is often judged to be. She smiled and breathed, feeling very much alive, and her eyes fixed ahead, as she walked.

Metres away Clarke saw the lake, the water, calm and quiet and inviting to the heat on her skin. But she would have time for swims later, she knew, she thought, as her vision shifted to her house. It looked the same, but different. Things were a bit brighter, on this plane. It was pleasant, was nice, but she didn’t care for that. It wasn’t the house she was looking for.

 

There were others there, but her eyes didn’t register them, didn’t wander, past the figure she saw standing not far from her now, a bit away from the house the others. Clarke had to stop short a moment, because her chest felt as if it was expanding, with emotion building and pulsing as loud and strong as her heart, and she had to remember to breathe. There was no anger in her feelings, no pain or hurt or regret, shame or sorrow – such things were past, were not present. She saw Lexa standing, rising, from where she was bent, was watering plants, and Clarke was struck and overwhelmed with an accumulation of emotions, that she knew, surer than she had ever known, all amounted to _happiness._

Lexa rose, her hair down, braided – just the same as before, the same as always, her clothes simple and plain but non-detracting from her beauty, and Clarke smiled. Clarke smiled and breathed, and she ran, and no sooner her arms were wrapped around Lexa, who was warm, was breathing, her heart beating; Clarke nuzzled her nose into the brown tresses and smelt the earth and wood, the natural scent of Lexa, as arms had wrapped around her in turn. It was not suffocating; it was not strong or overbearing of a hug. Comfort, safety, warmth, love – home, the hug was all these things.

“Clarke,” Lexa spoke, caringly, welcomingly, and Clarke licked her lips at hearing her name, truly, not in memory or thought, by her ear.

Clarke pulled back, palms resting to Lexa’s neck, thumb brushing over Lexa’s pulse, steady and strong under her fingers. Her eyes bore into the forests of Lexa’s, that were soft, were tender and lovely, and they were smiling soft and small to one another, because this was not a large moment in the sense of crashing waves. It was a moment of shore kisses, of first snow falling, of sunset watching and warm fires burning.

“Lex –”

Soft lips were on hers, similar to their first touch, and Clarke was just as surprised – oddly – but yielded as quickly, lips brushing, pushing, tasting with foreheads leaning. Clarke pushed and sighed into Lexa, melting, the moment seemingly eternal. She had kissed some lips, between her first kiss with Lexa and this one, but she couldn’t recall them, didn’t exist to her, couldn’t. Lexa kissed her and she kissed back, tender and hopeful, happy. Ready. 

“Hey,” Clarke grinned, eyes blue and bright and beautiful , boring into Lexa’s own.

Lexa looked into them and thought of that book and that man that journeyed for ten years to get home and knew she had found hers in those eyes.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” Clarke sighed, arms holding her.

She could spend forever in those arms, she thought, in the warmth and comfort of them.

Lexa smiled, shook her head a little and pressed her lips to Clarke’s chastely. “I was with you. I know your letters.”

“Still.”

“I would have waited longer.”

“I’m okay with right now though”

“We have time,” Lexa smiled again, easy, as another kiss was given, shared.

Kissing is definitely one of her favourite things, Lexa thought, breifly, as much as she could think with Clarke in her arms and a tongue teasing her mouth. She pulled away, though, before they did have time, with her hand sliding from waist to Clarke’s own palms around her neck, directing them downward to be held, with a squeeze, “Come. There are people over, who want to see you.”

“People over?”

“Look.”

She did, and for the first time in a long time felt the hot sting of tears, the corners of her eyes crinkling, throat tightened.

“Dad. Wells.”

“Other friends – sky people – will be visiting soon to see you, those that have not yet left to be born again. Anya wants to fight you as well. Test you.”

Clarke chuckled, laughed, looked down to their joint hands, watched as fingers interlaced, connected. She left the warmth in her chest spread, felt in love and looked back up to Lexa. The woman’s face was calm, content, was not guarded – there was no need anymore. Clarke looked into her eyes and saw days lazing in bed, of sleepy smiles, of tender to passionate kisses, of dancing and laying secreted and hidden and forgotten to the world in the wheat-field and naked swims in the lake, of bread baking and planting and art selling. She saw midnight reading and star-gazing, quiet laughter and reverent moments, saw it all. She saw living, a life absent of surviving, and she felt alive, felt blessed, felt at peace; and she knew to the deepest core to her being that Lexa is and always would be home, in this lifetime and the next.

 

_You took my hand, added a plan, You gave me your heart._

_I asked you to dance with me._

_You loved honestly, Gave what you could release._

_I know in peace you’ll go._

_I hope relief is yours._

_Now I am strong. You gave me your all._

_You gave all you had, and now I am whole._

_FIN._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my love - sia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtM_cc4SPJI  
> the you and me song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNnBcCk7eDA if you want to listen, it's beautiful.  
> oh the lyrics mentioned in lexa's chapter are this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-iMVt7lJ0o 
> 
> this was my first posted fic, unbeta'd. i didn't think i'd ever post but these two are just - they're made to live forever on paper. in every scenerio. written heaps of ways. i'll be posting more in the future, 15 planned specifically, hopefully by christmas/around that time for people. i have exams - but i wanted to finish this. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed it, or at the very least are left satisfied :) i imagine they both wrote more letters than i actually wrote, especially clarke. comment or whatnot, i'd love to know thoughts or feelings or criticism. honesty is best policy. 
> 
> tumblr: darlingheda

**Author's Note:**

> so I wrote this a while ago, like months, before I joined tumblr sometime in August. i was processing some serious bitter-sweet angst feels. just feels in general. lexa feels. so many feels. you can hit me up on tumblr at darlingheda.
> 
> p.s. some of the letter don't have the indent, for some reason. i'm new to this formatting way of things, so i don't know. it wont let me indent.


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